hi gang, sorry it’s taken me literal weeks to get this intro up bcos mona is a patchwork quilt cobbled together from different characters who i’ve written and loved so sorry its taken me so long but frankly??? the unpredictability of me stringing a load of backstories together and winging it?? reflective of mona’s chaotic personality so lets just say i meant to do it. anyway this shoots back n forth a lot. the curse of the unreliable narrator strikes again….. anyways... here she is. THIS IS RLLY LONG BTW so feel free to skip the boring bits. not proof read this. if there’s mistakes,,,,, no there’s not. everyone put ur horse blinders on please.
application.
* zoë kravitz & she/her / cis-woman‷ watch out , ramona colby has crash-landed into roswell !! they look thirty two years old and celebrate their birthday on 8th august. they are from roswell, new mexico, reside in greystone complex and are currently working as a peewee cheer & roller derby coach at the satellite sport complex. one thing you should know about them is she was a straight-A student on track for yale until a teenage pregnancy knocked her out of the running for class valedictorian. a war with social services, several rounds of rehab and an attempted kidnapping later, she’s back in roswell trying to straighten her life out and win back custody of her child‷ ( nora )
PINTEREST. PLAYLIST. MUSE TAG. ANOTHER MUSE TAG.
stats.
NAME: ramona ingrid colby. NICKNAMES: mona, coach (soccer kids), colby (teammates, striker cannon), romy. AGE: thirty-two GENDER & PRONOUNS: cis woman, she/her. OCCUPATION: coaches peewee soccer and the roller derby junior league. otherwise, works on a zero-hour contract at the satellite sports centre and just picks up hours where she can to fit around childcare and classes at the local community college. ARCHETYPES: the angry feminist. the ace. the jock. the ball breaker. the track star. the would-be valedictorian. the fall from grace, the cautionary tale, the tomboy, the biker babe, the go getter girl, the ladette. ZODIAC: leo sun, gemini moon, scorpio rising. NEIGHBOURHOOD: greystone complex. RESIDENCY: was born in roswell in the tripps trailer park, but was a looked after child for much of her teenage years and was frequently in and out of foster homes across new mexico. TATTOOS: so many. and i’ll list them at some point. but for now.... mysterious. FACECLAIM: zoe kravitz.
aesthetics.
thumb holes poked through the cuffs of your sleeves, bleach white sneakers pounding on a gymnasium floor, setting dumpsters on fire for the hell of it. a hit flask of vodka decorated with hello kitty stickers, split knuckles, alien conspiracy theories and sci-fi paperbacks, doc martens with fraying laces, a child in an oversize bee keepers suit, scabbed knees, not eating your greens, smiling with a mouthful of blood, and piercing your own ears with a safety pin when your mom wouldn’t take you, a tennis racket you punched through in a fit of temper, feet pounding the earth until your soles bleed crimson, sleeping in a cherry lip balm and scrunchies to keep the wild locks from your eyes.
personality.
vibrant, vulgar, self-absorbed, tenacious, veers between apathetic and dogmatic, temperamental, gregarious, flighty, unreliable, somehow also a natural care-giver, magnetic, charismatic, passive aggressive, fiesty / fighty, likes to play devil’s advocate, takes the moral high ground. estp and a leo
likes.
70s music, john wayne movies, black mirror, philosophy, cowboy chic culture, dc comics, the smell of locker rooms, deep red lipstick, lacrosse sticks, smoking weed from a bong, dogs, karaoke, late-night strolls, hawaaiian shirts worn open over a bralette, skinned knees, thai food, picking the apples at the very top of the trees, when other ppl get super excited about their thing and talk about it loads, zip-lining, cigarettes, the idea of pegging but not necessarily the practical application of it, decorative lamps, LGBTQ+ pin badges, worn-out furniture, twangy electric guitars, telling men that ‘female fronted’ is not a music genre.
dislikes.
girls who call other girls ‘pick me’ girls, woody allen movies, mental mathematics, wealthy children, quentin tarantino, ironing, institutionalised misogyny, the imaginary future, french literature, ‘dump him’ feminism, wes anderson films, spoken word poetry nights, college-educated bar staff who act like they’re better than you, indie softbois, the general mentality of cheerleading squads.
character references.
Natalya (Russian Doll), Casey (Atypical), Jackson Marchetti (Sex Education), Rue Bennett (Euphoria), Toni Shalifoe (The Wilds), Dot Campbell (The Wilds), Kat Stratford (10 Things I Hate About You), Coach (Dare Me), Fiona Gallagher (Shameless), Viola (She’s The Man), 8-Ball (Oceans 8), Missy (Bring it On), Scout (To Kill a Mockingbird), Nymphadora Tonks (HP) Sam (Dear White People), Maggie Mayhem (Whip It), cool girl monologue from gone girl except she IS cool girl who sucks dick and drinks beer and watches football with the bros 😭😭 i know its unattainable, amy. i KNOW. bt u dont know mona like i do.
HISTORY TIME.
abortion mention tw, sexual assault tw, neglect tw, drugs tw, addiction tw
trauma is stored in the mother
the way mona sees it, if you trace it back far enough, it always circles back to mothers. considering she never met her father, it’s the only thing she’s ever had to draw reference from. her story is as muddled and inconsistent as her mother is, and sometimes she fabricates details where there are pieces missing, patched like her denim jackets with cut-out swatches and iron on logos until the original design is unrecognisable.
she does know that her great grandmother, miriam, was ashkenazi jewish, the kind who grew up to the smell of freshly baked challah every week, who spoke yiddish at the shabbat table, raised close enough to new york city to inherit the accent but far away enough to skip the haughty attitude.
mona’s grandmother, maya friedman, the second youngest of seven siblings, was raised much the same as her own mother, but was a new yorker through and through. she took up smoking in the eighth grade because she thought it looked cool, shaved her head in the sixties when it was stylish to wear it long, caught the subway into brooklyn to attend college parties, was late for synagogue or would miss it altogether.
the late sixties were a blur of technicolour acid. grandma maya had ruth in san francisco, after 1967 - the summer of love, raised her in a commune where the parties were constant, the sex was a free-for-all, and motherhood meant little more than sharing the same genetic code.
growing up the way she did, it was hardly surprising that ruth became an unreliable mother herself, her moods as fickle as the ocean, mona never knowing if she’d come home to find the trailer host to a reiki healing, a yoga class or a ecstacy-fuelled rager where strangers would fuck in her bedroom. for much of her adolescence, ruth couch-surfed through los-angeles, squatted in new york, she went city to city selling trinkets and candles and offering spiritual guidance, believing herself to be the divine voice of wisdom on chakra alignment after she slept with a buddhist monk.
about a tomboy (1989-1999)
mona was born in roswell in 1989 after ruth moved to roswell because ‘the energy there was drawing her’ and the ‘ley lines connected the place’ or some other bullshit that mona never really believed. what was more likely was that the rent was cheap and the liquor was cheaper.
ruth had met mona’s father in new york. he was norse, descended from the vikings. mona inherited his viking spirit along with his name, the ‘colby’ tacked onto the end of ‘ramona’ always asking more questions than it answered.
what she knew of håvard colby could fit on the back of a stamp; he was covered in tattoos, wore his hair long and braided, stuck around long enough to suggest only a name, ramona, after joey ramone, before he took off to california. as a child, mona fantasised about him showing up to take her to a better life, one where she could sleep through the night undisturbed by the drunken rows of her mother and one of her college-aged lovers.
obviously because of that she has a lot of daddy issues (oy mista!! you me dad??). except from her marriage (which lasted a few years and ended in a bitter divorce) mona tends to hop from relationship to relationship and not really commit because she has never really accepted that what she’s looking for is that security and safety she never felt she got as a child.
for most of her childhood, mona’s only anchor was her mother, the trailer, and a revolving door of her mother’s lovers who seemed to change week on week. ruth didn’t want her to think of her as an old fuddy duddy mom. she was a hip cool mom that kids in elementary school envied. which was great until it wasn’t.
ruth didn’t believe in sheltering kids from anything. her philosophy was that mona was bound to learn sooner or later, so why bother trying to protect her. mona’s childhood consisted of holding a pillow over her ears to drown out the drone of all-night parties where ruth would smoke and drink until gone four in the morning, then pass out and spend the rest of the day on the sofa.
mona would get up, make her own breakfast, empty out a litany of beer cans and emptied spirits bottles, sort out the recycling, scrub vomit from the stairs, go to school with her hair unbrushed, smelling like a brewery, stay late in the library to delay the journey home, and return to find the house as messy as she’d left it, with another party already in full swing. sometimes mona would stick around, hang out with the adults there. they found her cute and charming, complimented her dimples, braided her hair, told her about the time they’d ridden elephants naked through thailand in the seventies. she found them fascinating, but when you hear the same shitfaced stories every week it starts to get old pretty quick. rinse repeat. this becomes her life.
ruth believed that the rave was meditation in it’s most pure form, that drugs expanded rather than inhibited the mind. if mona thought she was unreliable and neglectful, ruth claimed that it was only because mona was unenlightened. it was only after she confessed to rubbing opiates onto mona’s gums while she was breast feeding to calm her down that mona began to see there was something seriously wrong.
she gets catcalled in the street most days, told that her mother’s a fifty-cent hooker and she’ll be going the same, doing tricks for less. she embraced it, would tell them she’d fuck their fathers better than their mothers could, would lose nails, hairs, teeth in fist fights that she’d scramble from laughing with a mouthful of blood.
the bee-keeper’s apprentice (1999- 2001)
she finds solace in melvin abernathy, a local beekeeper whose trailer she passes on her way home from school, swinging her backpack, dragging her heels, in the hope that it’ll make her journey home longer. she’s made keeping busy look like an art, mathletes on tuesdays, track on wednesdays and fridays, debate club on thursdays, and evenings stretched out biking the dirt tracks into the night whenever she has hours to kill.
melvin starts as an acquaintance (she likes the way he looks in his beekeepers suit - like an astronaut from a bowie song) then becomes a friend. she likes the fact that he’s lived in roswell almost his whole life and yet nobody knows anything about him except for the fact he keeps bees. part of mona craves that level of anonymity.
one day, he surprises her with a child-sized beekeeper’s suit. he gives her a lesson in beekeeping, how to know which bee is the queen, the most humane way to extract honey from the hive. at ten she gets her first bee sting, (the prized-pin badge of a swollen pimple on her arm) and the next time runs faster. by the time she’s been beekeeping for three months she can run the length of the gym and back three times faster than anyone else in her class. after six months as melvin’s apprentice, she can sprint a lap of the trailer park and be back before the kettle’s boiled. she teaches him to make candles out of beeswax, the way her mother taught her (though these days she’s mostly too out of it for candle making). when melvin sets up his online shop he names it the colby honey company.
at eleven, mona tries out for the track team. in the changing rooms, they all strip down to their underwear. her coach notices the bruises that sometimes appear on her arms, the way she gouges into fruit like it’s going out of style, raised on a diet of takeaway pizza and instant noodles, the times when she attends practice smelling of liquor and second-hand smoke. but it’s melvin who eventually makes the call.
property of no one (2001 - 2004)
when it happens, it’s nothing like she imagined it would be, her mother screaming, crying, telling them to take her instead of mona. ruth simply hands a bag to the social worker, watches her get into the car, and lets her go. betrayal stings harder than a smack to the face or the months of sleepless nights ever could.
mona’s then under the protection of the state, uprooted from her life in roswell and shipped around chavez county foster homes, a ‘looked-after-child’ though she always found that term ironic. the opposite seemed true, guardians who couldn’t care less if she was happy or healthy so long as they were collecting the cheque.
the best homes are the ones that ignore her, leave her alone to her own devices in her room, buy her new gym shoes when she splits through the soles of another pair but don’t come to watch her flung from basket tosses at cheer. the worst ones are the ones where they pay her too much attention, where she feels the eyes of foster dads follow her, where uncles slide their hand over the small of her back and tell her she could be a model.
at thirteen, she gets placed back in roswell. she gets a window overlooking the pool outside of aurora apartments, swims there most days. at school, she works harder than anyone, knowing that a scholarship to college is her only way out. she stays late to catch up on the work she misses when she’s out of town for decathlons or model UN.
sugar, we’re goin’ down swingin! (2003-2007)
she was the archetypal ‘gifted child’ until she wasn’t any more and her whole life started going downhill. her teachers all said the same thing; that she was bright — like get-into-a-good-college bright — and she could be absolutely brilliant when she tried, but she was overly chatty, restless, disruptive.
she always thrived when she had loads of shit to do, so she surrounded herself with hobbies to fill up her days. she took up electric guitar, roller derby, did a brief try at drum lessons (although it was mostly banging her sticks against the trailer park trash cans since they couldn’t afford a real drum kit). she was a track superstar in her high school, and was honestly just that sporty bitch who seems to have limitless energy, you’ll see her doing lines at a party at half four and then on your way to your 9am class you see her running across the park like a fresh fucking daisy who is this bitch??
but at the same time, when she crashes, she really crashes, and you just won’t see her for a week because she burns herself out with all the shit she tries to do. at schoo, when something wasn’t going the way she planned she frequently got super burned out and would walk out of classes. her anger was a tidal wave. she had a lot of ‘behvioural issues’ bcos of undiagnosed adhd, she found it difficult to sit still for hours n write down huge chunks of information. often, her restlessness was misinterpreted as laziness.
she had a small circle of close friends — jett, marley and ian, although she tells herself ian’s more of a rival than a friend. she falls victim to vices, she gets drunk with marley, parties with jett, hangs out in the band room with ian long after the other kids have gone home. they butt heads in class, but love each other in secret. he’s come from a loveless home like hers, and she finds community in the people from broken homes for whom life hasn’t been no picnic either. at sixteen, her and ian make things official. at seventeen, she gets pregnant with nico.
this is one doodle that can’t be undid, homeskillet (2007 - 2013)
suddenly the sports scholarship to an ivy league college sounds like a distant pipe dream. she can’t keep the kid, because it would jeopardise her future. she can’t get rid of the kid, because that would make her as bad as her mother.
she knows that at this stage it’s only the size of a strawberry, a collection of cells made up of mona and ian, that it would be quick and painless, easy as falling asleep, but part of her wants to do better than her mother. she goes to the clinic twice and leaves before they can even announce her name. on a whim, mona decides she’s keeping the baby - if juno macduff can do it, so can i.
in senior year, she drops out of high school (much to her teachers dismay). they tell her she’s wasting her potential but she thinks she’s been given a second chance to do something good with this baby. her and ian get married at eighteen, which seems like a pretty renegade thing to do, especially since mona’s always been adamant she doesn’t need a man, but maybe the baby will. she doesn’t want this kid to grow up like she did, always feeling like half of the puzzle was missing.
nineteen comes and goes; mona’s friends go off to college, and she’s left in the trailer park once again wiping up vomit and shit, only this time it’s for a baby and not for her mother’s rowdy house guests. there’s a part of her that’s jealous for the life she didn’t get to lead, the life that she thought had been promised to her. she never regrets having nico, but sometimes she wonders what her life might have looked like if she didn’t.
they still go to protests, little nico on their shoulders, ear defenders and a pacifier in the shape of a fog horn. mona becomes a vegan like ian all for the sake of making this family work, though the cracks are starting to show. for a few years, they make it livable, but then the puppy love dies and their common interests aren’t enough to keep them together. in their early twenties, they separate. mona issues divorce papers that ian still hasn’t signed, holding on to a piece of her out of spite.
alanis morisette - you oughta know (2013 - 2017)
divorce era mona is not good, i won’t lie. it’s the first time since she was 15 or 16 that she’s been properly single. she goes a bit mad with the power that comes from being a milf.
but it’s also financially the worst period of her life. between needing to be around to pick nico up, having never finished her high school exams, and having the attention span of a goldfish, she struggles to hold down a job. she goes from dead end job to dead end job, working the gas station, the arcade, the crashdown until she’s fired after a yelling match with a rude customer and figures that customer service is definitely not something she excels at.
there are times when she finds herself so deep into poverty that she stands in the store, a frozen pizza in one hand, toilet roll in the other, cries before she can make a decision. she relapses after the divorce, falls into old habits, ends up in the greystone complex with kids she partied with at school, who split the childcare like a twenty bag of weed.
by this time, nico’s at school. she sees how easily the cycle can repeat itself, moves out again, finds a place in the trailer park, picks herself back up, gets a job at the satellite sports centre after one of the suburban moms she goes jogging with puts in a good word. tells herself that by the end of the year she’ll have completed her ged. she’ll apply for community college. one day, she’ll get her ivy league.
while working at the sports complex she hears about a job going in the gym department at nico’s school. she loses out on the gym teacher role, but gets hired as a coach for peewee cheer instead. she coaches three times a week after school, makes an army out of string bean girls, bends their polly pocket spirits into the viking one her father gave her.
her saving grace and the thing that gets her through this period is roller derby. she’s introduced to it by one of the soccer moms. it’s like cheer but less glitzy, soccer but less gendered, in roller derby they all have monikers. sylvia wrath. ruth blader ginsberg. tess of the derby wheels. courtney shove. hers is ramona devours, though she’s been thinking about rebranding herself as carmen slamdiego or m.c. jammer. they/them pronouns are the default in derby.
it starts as a hobby, but two years later she’s coaching the junior team. it becomes her life. she feels like herself when she’s on skates nipping between rows of angry butch non binary folk trying (and failing) to shove her off the track. being a jammer in a roller derby scrim is chaos and mischief in it’s finest form. it gives her the strength to stick sobriety through and become a better mom for nico.
what doesn’t kill u makes u stronger !! 2017 - pres
in 2019 her best friend dies and she ends up fucking his husband (aryan). admittedly not her finest hour.
she falls back into destructive habits, having never been one to do anything in small doses. she has to let it consume her. with sports, she’s fiercely competitive. with alcohol, it’s never a shot, it’s a whole bottle – wine or whiskey – she’ll be table dancing before the night’s up and making out with someone she’ll regret in the morning.
addiction takes her like a bull by the horns. she starts seeing her mother when she looks in the reflections at house parties in jupiter valley while nico’s at his dad’s. she hears her mother’s voice in the receiver when she hangs up the phone after calling her dealer. she remembers the way her mother talked about how raves were zen buddhism in it’s most condensed form, and the mindlessness, thoughtlessness she gets when she’s high. she grapples with relapse, goes to rehab twice, vows to stay clean for nico.
one night, a drink at the wild pony turns into pints and karaoke, turns into lines back at the trailer park and a one night stand she won’t remember. she’s late to pick up nico the next day from the gas station where her and luc swap over the reigns. they’ve had his suspicions that she’s using again for a while, but when she shows up, bedraggled, eyes still wide, vowing that she never does any of that shit around nico, that he’s always been her priority. that she’d die before driving under the influence or getting high while he’s in her care.
it doesn’t matter. when mona goes hard, it’s hardly subtle. an anonymous source (which is later revealed to be ian) tips off social services that she’s using again, and they show up at the trailer park one afternoon asking around. she pulls him out of school early, borrows striker cannon’s truck, and fills it with all that she can to start a new life with nico. it isn’t a well thought out plan but it’s the best one she’s got, and having grown up in care, she can’t let the same fate fall on nico. his dad’s an ex-convict as it is, even if it wasn’t only for his involvement in protests.
they make it as far as santa fe on fake id’s made by micken cannon using cash in hand to get food and gas. in santa fe, they’re cornered. a crying nico’s torn away from mona while she’s kicking and screaming, the reaction she’d imagined her own mom having all those years ago when she was taken by social workers, although it doesn’t even feel ironic, it just feels cruel.
nico’s temporarily put in ian’s care while a custody hearing is arranged. technically, she’s not meant to see him, although nico still sees her on the weekends.
it’s been a few months now since it all kicked off and nico was taken by social. she did another stint at rehab, and hasn’t touched drugs in six months. she’s working on getting a steady income, and building a bank of reliable character witnesses who can testify to how great she is with nico and how well she's been trying with rehab. she’s not going to go for full custody - but she wants to at least get joint custody split between her and his father.
she recently negotiated a pay rise with the sports complex and is now an assistant trainer. she’s moved out of the trailer park and is living in a two bedroomed apartment in the greystone complex. that brings us about up to date with the history, now i’ll move on to headcanons!! [screams at a pitch so high only animals can hear bcos this is so fuckin long]
headcanons.
mona is pretty disgusting but she’s also so hot that she gets away with it. she has no table manners, doesn’t do fancy dinner dates or black tie events, but she’s never missed one of nico’s parent-teacher evenings.
she loves dirt. ate a worm once as a kid because someone dared her too. shamelessly disgusting.
part of her mother that’s lingered has been her love of the outdoors. mona feels most at home in nature. she likes foraging for mushrooms. she finds comfort in storms. when she needs to calm down, she’ll go to the water.
she’s a strident feminist, an activist for human rights and animal rights, and an all-round soapbox sadie. catch her in the market shouting about human rights through a megaphone. will most definitely have quizzed your character on institutionalised racism whilst inhaling nos at a party and snacking on a big bowl of cheesy wotsits
she’s a firecracker but also the most apathetic bitch you’ll ever meet. like so chilled out that it’s concerning. you can count on her to lower the mood with a nihilistic comment. but its like that nihilism meme where the guy is in a hawaiian shirt with sunglasses and says life is meaningless nothing is real while throwin up a peace sign
she can’t deal with pushovers or people who sit on the fence. she likes to surround herself with people who have opinions on things and fire behind their eyes, even if those opinions are shit and she totally disagrees, she’d rather befriend people with opinions than people who are just kinda meh about everything.
she never actually finished senior year so she’s currently going to night school at the community college to get through her exams and is trying to save to go to college or open university. she wants to major in criminology bcos she’s obsessed with true crime but she doesn’t want to end up as a cop bcos acab. she’d maybe like to be a homicide detective or a crime scene photographer. she’s super ambitious but also super adhd so she fluctuates between thinking she can achieve anything to just feeling like a failure n thinkin whats the point. right now, she likes her job at the sports complex, she loves the kids she coaches, and she’s pretty happy in roswell, even though she’d never admit it. things r lookin up miss colby
self proclaimed MILF. loves flirting with soccer dads. they all fancy her and their wives hate her. i wish mona wasn’t but she’s totally one of those girls that’s like “omg…. i just get on with guys so much better…. they’re less drama”. yea, i wonder why, slut. that’s mean, she’s not a slut but very easily could be.
lies for fun about really insignificant things like her name and her age and her job. addictive personality n gets obsessed w ppl easily. can't really diffrentiate between platonic and romantic love tht well. has dated a LOT of douchebags.
always jogging or drumming her fingers or tapping her toes and even if she looks like she’s still there’ll be a part of her that’s moving. gets that restless energy out. when she’s not working, she’s at the rink playing roller derby, or jogging, or soap box racing with the cannons she has a lot of restless energy and constantly has to be doing something, and so it reflects in her appearance that she’s always on the go. she rarely ever wears make up. she sucks at eyeliner, would only ever wear it if someone else did it for her.
hot but in a trailer park kind of way. there’s something greasy and unwashed about her. she always looks like she’s just come from working out, which usually she has. it’s rare that you won’t see her with her skates round her shoulders and hair plastered to her forehead with sweat.
usually bruised, grazed or covered in plasters from her various sporting endeavours. she likes to see the bruises she gets playing hockey and roller derby as little trophies.
nihilistic but in a 🤙 nothing matters and life is meaningless 🤙 fun kinda surfer way.
style / aesthetics
dresses completely instinctively without any sense of cohesion so she tends to stand out, even if she doesn’t mean to. a guy once told her she was wearing the ugliest outfit he’d ever seen and he thought that was so ‘cool’ and ‘brave’ of her. honestly she’s a big ass 90s alt-girl stereotype. she’s the badly-translated t shirt you see on a meme page with a picture of mickey mouse that doesn’t match the text. she’s the baseball cap that says ‘south dakota fishing champion’ or the sweater that says ‘mississippi: catfish capital of the world’. the hawaiian shirt hacked into a crop-top, tied just above her belly-button. she’s the fake adidas tennis skirt with a shoddily embroidered ‘adidos’ across the hem. she’s the ripped jeans cut into shorts that fall just below the knee, sport socks and converse no matter the occasion, a slip dress from goodwill thrown over a band t-shirt in an attempt to look more ‘girly’ but kind of ruining the gentleness by the fact that she’s got clumpy docs on with it.
growing up, mona’s style was way different to what it is now. she was one of the cheer girls, she ran track, she did a million social clubs, she went to parties and somehow still managed to ace classes. all of her clothes were hand me downs and she never had anything first-hand. she tried so hard to dress like the other girls with the little resources she had. at school, she was accused of sleeping with one of the cheerleaders' boyfriend, because she was wearing his jumper. he’d donated it to the goodwill she volunteered at when it got ratty, but they wouldn’t take it. she was meant to throw it out with the other clothes that weren’t sellable, but instead she took it home. so when the cheer girls accused her of sleeping with adam, it was easier for mona to take the hits and be called a slut than admit she’d found his jumper while burrowing through the trash. she went from cheer captain to being on the bleachers in the space of a lunch hour all because of a sweater. in some ways, it was a relief. it meant she didn’t have to pretend any more. she could start being herself.
when she stopped caring about what she was wearing and what people thought about her, she found that her style evolved into something that felt more her. she didn’t care that she wore her grandpa’s old shirts, baggy and open over a bralette; she looked good in them. she rocked his baseball caps with weirdly specific fishing slogans. she made torn jeans work for her over a pair of crappy dollar store fishnets. she wears backwards caps, heart-shaped novelty sunglasses, has wristbands all up her arms. her coat is an army surplus jacket covered in badge pins. she loves dungarees and boiler suits, because you don’t have to think about what to pair with them, it’s already done the work for you.
wanted plots.
people she jogs with
people she coaches at the sports complex !! she wants to be a personal trainer
ppl she used to get fucked up on a rager with
ppl who she grew up with in the trailer park n understand why she is the way she is
someone whos also obsessed w bees n will let her teach them how to keep bees
ppl who will indulge her need to discuss her theories on aliens (shdnt be hard to find in this group)
b4 she dropped out, mona used 2 b in with the cool kids at school bcos she wld steal booze from her mom and bring it to parties and not ask for money. maybe a fun plot cld b with some of the ‘it girls’ she used to hang around with b4 she got pregnant n dropped out and they all went off to college n stopped texting her.
locals who play sports. mona wld be all over community soccer n take it way too seriously. maybe ppl she plays hockey with. girls who she’s like, weirdly intimate with but its not a thing cos the other girls straight !!! what do u mean !! aha just fun !
since she can’t rlly differentiate between romantic and platonic love, she’s got off with so many of her mates, so i want awkward friendships where they nearly dated, or exes that have now just turned into weird friendships
ppl she goes foraging for mushrooms with or camping in the wilderness with.
her son can skateboard and she’s trying to learn so they can hang out together more so maybe someone to help her with this. she’s p good at balance and sick at roller derby but a baord??? different geography.
even tho she fuckin hates her mom, didn’t believe in tarot or rakie healing or chakras or any of that, she thinks she may have been onto something with the whole buddhism gig (minus the drugs n raving being buddhism at its core). i reckon she might have recently started meditating to try and calm down her mind cos its always bustling with thoughts, n i think she’s p interested in buddhism so if anyone’s a buddhist hmu
someone she’s trying to make a zine with on female empowerment and women in film and art, etc. just a very feminist zine
TLDR summary of mona.
short angry sports gal who likes feminist literature, wearing leather jackets over slip dresses, and smudged red lipstick. hawaiian shirt nihilist jock. roswell-born, would-be-valedictorian track star turned teen mom drop out, turned rehab cautionary tale, turned slowly putting her life back together to win back her 12-year old-kid. ran away w/ her son when the child services threatened to take him. eventually they caught up with her and temporarily put him in the care of his dad ( in roswell, wanted connection !! ). now she’s trying to put her life back together to prove she’s a good mom. just did her 3rd stint at rehab and is six months sober !! she works as a roller derby instructor and coaches peewee cheer, is training to become a personal trainer at the satellite sports complex, but her long-term goal is to eventually go to law school to study criminology ( with the hopes of becoming a private investigator, homicide detective or a crime scene photographer ). she is currently re-taking her exams through night classes at the local community college !!
